


Talk Fiction To Me

by TehLotteh



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders also has a lot of shit to deal with, Anders likes his voice, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hawke reads audiobooks, Hawke you angel, I feel so cruel, M/M, Modern AU, but I promise fluff is on the horizon, holy shit where did the angst come from, like Varric making him into a Zorro-esque literary hero, please read me bedtime stories too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:59:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4886344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehLotteh/pseuds/TehLotteh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric's latest series has been published in audiobook form, and Anders has decided that he very much likes the voice of the man who reads them. His voice is a constant source of comfort for him, that he feels he can trust in to always be there for him. It really doesn't help that the main love interest in the series is a tall, blond man from the Anderfels.. With all the confidence and easy-going nature that Anders lacks. He feels the social pressure of trying to match up to this creation, and when he meets the man behind the voice himself out of the blue, it takes all he has not to break under the burden of a life that has treated him so poorly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I should really be working on That You Learn Whether You Can Fly (I have the plot outlined and the next chapter mostly written) but I've had this lying around in my folders for a while so I thought I should consider posting it. Inspired by the multiple comments on voice actor AUs on tumblr, but while this was originally going to be a oneshot it started to grow a little by itself, and I'm not sure how far it will go. I have the next chapter mostly written but I'm going to hold it back a little in case the plot dives off on its own somewhere. (That said it'll probably be up in a day or two..)
> 
> Due to university I can't promise that I'll devote much time to this, with TYLWYCF being my main focus, but I'm a terror unless I have multiple projects on the go, so we'll see!
> 
> Translations:  
> Mach es dir selber - go fuck yourself

_He slipped his hands over my chest, the fabric of my thin shirt crumpling under his touch, and I felt my body shudder as a shaky breath left me. I needed him. I wanted him. Sweet Maker, but the warmth of desire pooling in the pit of my stomach burned more than any flame I had seen. His blond hair pooled over his face, eyes the colour of molten honey boring into my own. What angel had He seen fit to gift to me? What fortune that it was I this perfect man had chosen to direct his attentions to, straddling me with slender legs, surprisingly tight thighs gripping to me as he rolled his hips, grinding down on me and purring at the wanton moan that left my throat._

_“Ugh.. M-Maker..”_

_He smirked, nipping my jaw harshly, moving to my throat and tugging the skin in time with my rapidly beating pulse. His hand now slipped under my shirt, dragging nails down my skin, raking them and leaving little grooves before sliding back up and threading through my chest hair. He carded his fingers there, using it as leverage to pull me closer to him, eyes back on mine as he brought his face level to me, his tongue darting out quickly to wet his lips._

_We stayed that like for what felt like forever, the only sensations my heavy breathing and his own, shallower, quicker, shoulders trembling once or twice with anticipation._

_Suddenly, everything kicked back in to normal time as he shoved me harshly onto my back with surprising strength, deft fingers immediately locking in my waistband and pulling down. The shock of the cold air made me jolt lightly, but he didn't seem to care, his lips curling into a predatory snarl, eyes pleased with what he saw._

_“Perhaps I should thank this Maker of yours,” the Scion of the Anderfels purred as he leaned down, breath ghosting over my bare flesh, and the whimper I emitted served only to drive him on._ _Lips closed around me as he moaned lowly, and my fingers quickly found their place in his hair. He worked me hard, cheeks hollowing as he sucked deeply, fingers playing over my thighs as I could do little but shudder, gasps and moans puncturing the otherwise silence of the balcony._

_The Scion had done his work, and now he claimed his prize. Me. I was his prize. I still wasn't over this fact. My brother and sister were both more attractive than me, surely, more confident, more everything. And yet, it was my quarters he had stolen in to. My body he was currently ravaging, claiming as his own._

_And he knew what he was doing. I was unravelling under his ministrations, the heat of my building orgasm almost too much to bear. “Hngh, I-I can't.. I'm going to-”_

 

“FUCK!”

I probably shouldn't have shouted that so loud, but I couldn't curse my luck more than that. I stared at the wretched device in my hand, that blighted little spinning circle taunting me, all “hey, look, my battery ran out. You didn't really want to hear his fake climax, did you?”.

So what if I did? His voice is to die for at the best of times, but when he's working like that, putting his heart and soul into it, it's hard not to feel drawn in. I asked Varric once or twice if the man actually is jerking off in the recording booth to sound like that, but he assures me that no, aside from his very emotive facial expressions, he has no help. It's not fair. The man can sound so heavenly moaning in a recording that will be heard by thousands, and I can barely speak without my voice quivering its way through a number of pitches. I never used to be so nervous, but I suppose that's what happens when you experience a number of traumatic experiences that. In all honesty, I'm not sure I really managed to hold myself together through the first one. The second and third were just the icing on the cake.

The lady sat diagonally in front of me on the train glares at me for a moment longer before turning back to her book, and I can see from the spine she's reading the prequel to the one I'm listening to. There's only two books in the series so far, and I had very nearly finished listening to the second, but Varric is already well into the third and assures me it's to be his best work yet. The books had gotten progressively more sex-oriented, not that I'd heard any complaints. Everyone read them. I'd found a couple of copies stashed in desks at work, but so far it was only Lirene that had picked up on it.

_“_ _You know, that Scion seems to look a lot like you, going by the description..”_

And it's not just the Anderfels part, either, though Maker knows I couldn't look more Anders if I tried. There aren't that many of us around – I met a single other Anders in Ferelden, a woman named Woolsey, back when I was with the Wardens. They were an elite military division that recruited those nobody else would touch, so a doctor with a history of minor criminal offences had been right up their street. Woolsey had been in charge of our squad's funds, and I had gotten along well with her. It was nice to have someone else to talk to about home, even if neither of us would be returning to it any time soon.

My parents sent me to boarding school in Ferelden, a wretched establishment known as Kinloch Hold, which effectively cut all ties with them. My mother had opposed it completely, but I was a disgrace to my father. I'd always been an odd child, flicking through bouts of uncontrollable rage and sheer panic. It had exhausted him, and when I'd attacked one of the children in the village, he'd said that enough was enough. It didn't matter to him that the boy five years my senior had decided to see what would happen if he dropped the stray cat I'd adopted out of an eighth story window. It was just a cat in his eyes. No, I was dangerous, I was unruly, and I was not his son.

Still, Ferelden had been my home for a good twenty years before I made the move to Kirkwall. I couldn't say I missed the country that much, but if people asked, I would tell them I was Fereldan. They knew otherwise, not like the name I go by gives it away. I hate my real name, especially with the ties to my father. I've been called Anders for over half of my life now, and really, I prefer it this way. At work I'm known as Dr. Anders, and my real name only goes down on official forms. Everyone who knows me calls me Anders, although I'm fondly acknowledged in the front of Varric's books as Blondie.

He's got nicknames for all of us in his little circle of friends, and I'm more grateful than he can know that I'm one of them. He's one of those people who just draws others to him. He's charismatic, intelligent, organised. I don't know a single person who has met him and dislikes him. Even Fenris, the moodier man from Tevinter that I tend to avoid if I can, cracks a smile for him. Still, for all his gregarious nature, there's only four of us in his inner circle – Fenris, Isabela, Merrill and myself. We meet once a week at the bar he co-owns to play cards and catch up, although I've been out of town for the past two weeks sorting things out with the in-laws.

I say in-laws.. Karl's brother's family. We were engaged for five months before the accident happened, and every year since I've made an effort to go and visit them for the anniversary of the funeral. It was a moment I don't really wish to relive, and it still hurts to think about. I'd never been happier than those years I spent with him.

Which is partly why Varric had dragged me in to his literary dreams. It started off with him talking ideas through with me over coffee in an attempt to lift my spirits, keep me occupied. He'd wanted an exotic character, but didn't want to bend to the stereotypes of the Antivans or the Rivainis, and he certainly didn't want a Qunari love interest in his novels. He, Isabela and I had been sat around the table, she and I playing cards while he jotted down notes, when Isabela had suddenly mentioned that my parents must have been unimaginative to call me Anders. Varric had snapped his fingers and yelled something about that being a bloody brilliant idea, and the next thing I knew, I was being grilled for questions about my home country (“What's the weather like?” _Warm._ “Are you all blond?” _The majority._ “Can you speak some Ander for me?” _Mach es dir selber._ )

And voilà, yours truly became the inspiration for the infamous Scion of the Anderfels. No real name, because it's mysterious. He's skinny and blonde with golden eyes just like me, except while I'm an incompetent bundle of social ineptitude, the Scion is the picture of confidence. He knows what he wants, he goes where he wants, and he takes what he wants.

In this case, he takes the main character of Aedan Cousland, a nobleman who suits me far more in temperament, but who is currently my addiction. I'm not normally one for trashy romance novels (no offense, Varric), but the man who does the audiobook has a voice to die for.

Garrett Hawke.

Varric's work was his first big breakthrough, from what I've been told. He'd done a little work on radio ads and had a brief stint as a sports commentator, but his audiobook skills are to die for. He has this rich baritone that sets right in your bones at his normal pitch, but when he drops it into a growl, you know about it. Karl and I used to joke about people who said that a voice made them shiver, claiming bullshit. He and I both have higher voices, tenors without much depth, and I'd never thought I could grow weak at the knees at a few words from a man I knew nothing about. He was a complete stranger, and yet the way he spoke undid me. Especially in the scene I was just listening to. Deep down, I could pretend that I really was the Scion, and that I could be drawing moans like that out of someone like him. I could pretend that it was my hands making him shiver, my mouth causing him to moan so freely.

And although I knew it couldn't be farther from the truth, I felt like I knew him. Varric's writing was so in depth, and Garrett's reading so passionate, that I genuinely felt as if I had known Aedan all my life – and, being the voice of it all, Garrett was tied in to that.

Oh, he'd also recently starting voicing video game characters. I had not gone and bought Blackguards, his most recent work, where he voices the playable character. I've never played games before, my work not usually allowing the time, but I'd made the effort and although I'm atrocious, it's worth the bumbling through to hear a few extra lines of dialogue. Still, all this, and he'd never shared his face. On the audiobooks it just states his name, and I'd done some research online and found nothing. I didn't know why he didn't want to let people know what he looked like, but maybe it just added to the mysterious air surrounding him.

The announcement on the train cut through my thoughts, and informed us that we were approaching Kirkwall station, finally. Varric had insisted I come and stop by the Hanged Man on my way home, no doubt assuming that I would have finished listening to the audiobook on the journey home. I felt a bit guilty that I wouldn't be able to discuss the ending with him yet, but from what I could tell I was very close to it. I just hoped that there was no earth-shattering cliffhanger this time – I don't think I could bear the suspense again. Finally the train pulled in and I reached up, pulling my case down from the rack above my head. May as well go face the author and see if I can borrow a charger so I can finish listening on the way home.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I am so so sorry this was never supposed to be /this/ angsty. My fingers just started typing by themselves and angst happened, but don't worry, it gets a bit fluffier in the rest of the fic. I'm just a bit of a sucker for some good old angsty Kanders..
> 
> On the other hand I woke up early this morning and have finished writing the whole fic so I'll probably end uploading the final two chapters this evening. I never was any good sitting on material.
> 
> Also, feel free to come and pester me on [my tumblr](http://kinloch-ho.tumblr.com/) \- I don't often respond to comments on here (it just feels a little weird to me) but I'm always up for a chat there. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

 Stepping into the Hanged Man was like being punched in the face with nostalgia. I'd been away for only two weeks, but the smell, the sights, it had all become ingrained in part of my life. I relaxed a little as I stepped through the door, hearing the low music in the background and the lively chatter peppered around the room. Our usual table was up on the mezzanine floor and behind the wall so that we could have privacy without seeing the rabble throwing up at the bar, and I briskly made my way to the stairs, long legs easily taking them two at a time. I could kill to sit down with a drink right about now, maybe order a sandwich as well. I forgot to buy something for the train journey and my stomach's starting to gnaw itself and I would rather not end up sounding like I'm harbouring a ravenous beast in there.

As I round the corner, though, my steps slow. There's another person sat at the table with them, Isabela being her usual self and draping an arm across his shoulders, picking at bits of his hair as he and Varric are leaning over some drafts of writing, the stranger nodding once or twice. He's broad, very broad, and has the most magnificent beard I've seen in a long time. It's thick but well trimmed, and he has a mop of matching hair on his head swept to the side – and do I detect a bit of gel in his fringe? There's a softness to his face that reminds me of Karl, and my heart aches after the recent reminder, but there's an assurance to his posture that I haven't seen. It's like his presence fills up the room, and everyone is drawn to him. Even Fenris is leaning against the table, head tilted in his direction as he listens, and Merrill is giggling as she kicks her legs.

Who is this man, and have I been replaced? I feel guilty for thinking it, but I've never really understood why my friends keep me around. I'm nervous, high-maintenance, and don't bring much to the table aside from the genetics that Varric so loves. The author in question catches sight of me and raises his head, grinning, before waving for me to come and take a seat. He pulls a chair out on his right, placing me between him and Fenris, meaning I'm right opposite this handsome stranger. He glances up as well, studying me with rich, brown eyes, and they widen only slightly in surprise as he takes me in. I immediately feel self conscious, rubbing my hand over the stubble on my jaw. I can't remember whether I shaved or not while I was visiting the Theklas, and after travelling for so long I must look atrocious.

First impressions, ruined.

“Blondie, glad you could make it! How was the train?”

“Long, boring. My MP3 died about an hour from Kirkwall so I didn't get to finish it.”

Varric grinned in response, leaning back in his chair as he raised his drink to his lips, and I quirked an eyebrow at the sly expression on his face. “Not to worry, if you ask nicely you can finish it here.”

“I was hoping you'd have a charger I could borrow.”

He burst out laughing, and this time the dark stranger cracked a grin as well, straightening up as Isabela dropped her arm, pouting slightly at being jostled. She was soon leaning forward with her elbows on the table, cleavage pressed up against the wood as she smirked playfully at me. I merely spared her a glance before turning back to Varric – she and I had had a fling back in Ferelden in our youth, and since meeting again in Kirkwall she'd tried her charms numerous times. I just didn't feel ready after losing Karl, still, and I didn't know if I would. Certainly not for a quick fling – I knew now that what I needed was a nice, steady relationship. I was tired of being lonely, and a cold bed the morning after really wouldn't help.

“How far did you get?”

“The Scion was sucking Aedan off on the balcony. Really, Varric, you should get these audiobooks rated – I dread to think how many teenagers have suddenly discovered pubescent feelings after hearing moans like that.” Again, I was met with a handful of smirks and Isabela stifled a giggle, and for once even Merrill looked like she was in on a joke I didn't get. I couldn't help but feel the prickle of jealousy crawl up my spine, and I knew from their faces that my expression had darkened to match. It was no secret that I suffered from bad mood swings, but instead of getting angry, these days I mostly just got mopey. I'm sure that if my nickname wasn't Blondie, I would quickly have been given that monicker. “Am I missing something?”

“Sorry, Blondie, just realised I haven't introduced you to our guest. This is Blondie, Anders, whichever you want to call him.”

The man held his hand out and after a moment's hesitation I took it, finding my own enveloped in a warm handshake. Maker, even in that he oozed confidence. It was strong, sturdy, and only shy of being too firm. “A pleasure, ..?” I trailed off, inviting him to share his name then, unless he was going by a nickname from Varric as well. I couldn't even begin to imagine what that might be. His eyes crinkled at the sides and he grinned, holding my hand a few moments more than I thought strictly necessary by standard etiquette.

“Garrett.”

Oh Andraste's knickerweasels. One word, and I knew that voice. Varric knew it too, the smug bastard, and I saw him snigger as my shoulders sagged and I all but melted. He was here, in front of me, the one man I could possibly say I had a fanboy crush on. He felt my hand go limp and let go, eyes wide as if he'd done something wrong, and I just slumped on the table with a weak laugh. Could the floor just eat me up please? I felt like such an embarrassment. I looked a state, I was tired, and my idol was sat across from me and I can't even hold it together.

“S-sorry,” I tried, glancing up with a quavering smile. Already my voice was cracking up, and I was fighting the urge to run out of the room. I really wish my friends hadn't just dropped this on me. I don't find it easy talking to strangers at the best of times. “I just.. Wasn't e-expecting you. Here.”

He smiled warmly, reaching out to lightly touch my arm, and it felt more reassuring than I expected. “Don't worry about it! I should apologise, Varric wanted to let you know in advanced, but I asked him not to. I didn't want to feel.. Stalkerish.”

That threw me off guard, though I was pleased to hear that Varric had thought of me. What did Garrett mean by stalkerish, though? I sat up a little, pleased to find that someone had placed a drink in my hand. Maker knew I needed it right now. I knocked half of it back on reflex, pulling a slight face at the burning in my throat, but with a bit of Ander Courage in me I hoped I would start to settle down. “I don't..?”

“Chuckles here is a bit of a fanboy himself. Particularly the Scion.”

Oh. _Oh._ As in, he'd probably spoken to Varric and found out that I was the inspiration. He felt the same for me regarding the Scion as I did to him regarding Aedan. I couldn't help the snort that came half strangled out of my throat, and I only felt a little bad when I saw Garrett squirm in response. I genuinely can't think of a situation more awkward than this that I've had the misfortune to experience, especially with Isabela regarding us both lewdly, and Fenris looking at us as if we're shit on his shoe.

Merrill was soon giggling, clasping her hands together before beaming at us. “Oh, but it's so cute! It's like you're the real life characters. Anders, have you ever sucked a man off?”

My face bursts bright red and I choke on air, while Fenris seems to do the same to his drink. If I thought Garrett looked embarrassed before now he's positively mortified. “Merrill!”

“I think it's a good question.” Isabela purred as she stroked her foot against my leg under the table, and I felt more than a little attacked on all corners. “I don't know about men, but I can vouch that he has a good tongue. I can see why your friends in Kinloch Hold called you Sparklefingers.”

I could die. I could genuinely die, right here, right now. A rather deep flush has crept over Garrett's neck, and I notice his cheeks have turned a shade to match as well. I need to get out of this situation, I really do. I feel so bad for upping and leaving like this, and I hate myself for having caused such a scene. Everyone was getting on so well without me, and the moment I appear I ruin it. I down the rest of my drink quickly and place some coins on the table before standing, pleased that nobody protested, before hurrying out with my bags.

By now they've learned not to chase me, and I'm grateful for that. It only makes things work if they fuss, and I know Varric will send me a text later that afternoon just to double check that I'm alright. I hoist my bag higher on my shoulder as I walk, once more regretting the lack of battery on my MP3. I'd kill to listen to the rest of that audiobook right now – or then again, maybe not. I don't know how I can listen to his voice without flinching at that horrid, awkward situation.

I round the corner and start down the long road home. It's a good fifteen minutes' walk, and the view isn't brilliant, but at least it's alone time for me to reflect on my mistakes. I'm tempted to call in to work to swap to cover the night shift tonight, just for something to do, but I know that it might not be the wisest thing to do while I feel like this.

I hear the sound of running footsteps behind me and, assuming it to be someone out for a jog, step to the side to allow them past. They slow, however, and I risk a glance over my shoulder to see that bulk of a man slowing to walk beside me, breathing a little heavier from his dash to catch up to me, and I look to him in surprise before darkening, turning my back on and carrying on walking. “I'm sorry for the scene I caused before, but you should probably head back.”

“Anders, no, I'm sorry.” I pause in my steps, and am glad he stays slightly behind him. I don't think I feel comfortable with him seeing my face right now. His voice is so perfect, and he's here, apologising to me, and he sounds so genuine. _He's a voice actor, it's what he does_... But why is he even apologising?

“It's not your fault.”

“No, it is. I made you a target, and it wasn't my intention. Can.. Can I walk you home, at least?”

I hesitate once more, weighing up my options, but the loneliness wins out. Some company might be nice, after all, and if he starts to rub me up the wrong way I can always ask for him to leave me alone. He seems like someone who wouldn't put up a fight to that. With a heavy sigh, I nod, and start walking. He falls into step beside me, hands tucked in to his pockets, and for a while we say nothing. It feels almost just as awkward as before, but when he opens his mouth I'm not sure what I would have preferred.

“Varric told me why you were away for the past couple of weeks. I.. I'm sorry. Nobody should have to go through that.”

“It's three years ago now.. I'm fine.”

“Has nobody spoken about it to you?”

I pause again, only this time because he hit the nail on the head. No. I haven't spoken about the loss to anyone. Varric only succeeded in distracting me, and everyone else followed suit. Nobody knew what to say, and in all honesty, I wouldn't have known in their position either. I may be a trained doctor, I may have had to pass on terminal news to patients and loved ones more often that I would like, and once or twice I've even sat through a man's last hours with him, but there's no code for how to approach someone dealing with sudden grief when you're their friend. As a doctor it's all clinical, a balance of care and detachment.

None of us in Varric's circle are exactly family people. I was the only one in a solid, steady relationship. They didn't know what it felt like, how it still feels, knowing that the one person who knew you inside out, all your darkest fears and secrets and your flaws and still loved you, is gone.

I'm starting to hyperventilate, I can feel it, and I can see it in the sudden panic on his face. It hurts, oh _Maker it hurts_ and I can't breathe, he moves to me and I shove him but there's no force and he persists, and then next thing I know his arms are around me and holding me and the floodgates have opened and I'm just bawling my eyes out.

I'm breaking down in the middle of the street and a near stranger is hugging me as if his life depends on it and I don't realise how much I needed it, just someone to be there, to tell me I'm not alone. Karl's brother isn't that close to me. Merrill and Isabela hug me but it's just light, fleeting, without any real weight to it. They've all been too afraid of facing this, too unsure of how to respond that they stay away, and in turn I try to too.

“It's alright, I'm here for you,” I hear him say as he keeps hold tightly, and it takes a while through ugly, gasping gulps of air, but I eventually tell him which flat is mine. He keeps me firmly in his arms and ends up half carrying me there, and somehow manages to fumble my keys from my pocket and lets us both in. I'm grateful, more than he can know, just to be off the street and in the privacy of my own home. I swear he's done this before because he's guiding me to the sofa and already pulling the blanket down, wrapping it firmly round my shoulders before settling beside me, leaving his arm away so I'm welcome to burrow into the firm warmth of his side on my terms.

I respond almost immediately and latch on to him, and while I focus on calming my emotions down I can pretend for a short while that it's Karl I'm curled up with, except it's not his voice, and it's that that eventually grounds me back to the present. I have no idea how long it takes but eventually my breathing settles and we find ourselves in this awkward position, too intimate for people who had just met, but also comforting enough that neither of us want to leave.

It's him who breaks the near-silence first, switching from the soothing muttering he had adopted to address me directly, and I felt him squeeze my shoulders slightly at the same time. “I'm going to assume nobody _has_ spoken to you about it, and in turn you haven't broached it with them. I can't claim to know them very well, but from what I know about Varric.. In the nicest sense, his head is more focused on the possibilities than the facts.” I can hear the smile in his voice, so gentle and warm, even if I can't see his face right now.

“I didn't want to bother them. It.. They don't understand. It's not right of me to force my guilt on them.”

He pauses, and I felt a thumb rub lightly over my arm through the blanket, and I imagine he's trying to work out what to say next while keeping us in the delicate eye of the proverbial storm. This is asking too much of him, he was in Kirkwall to visit Varric, not to be stuck with me, some washed up nobody who can't hold it together.

“Look, I understand if you don't feel up to it, Anders.. But I'd be more than willing to listen to you. You remind me so much of my mother, and it almost broke her not to talk about her loss. I couldn't help her, but if I can help you, I will.”

I tremble slightly, and I can hear the pain in his voice. He knew loss as well, and it felt wrong to feel relieved at that. My fingers curl in the blanket as I worry my lip with my teeth, before a quiet voice asks him to elaborate.

“My father passed some years ago. It was.. Terrible timing, really. He took ill very suddenly and very seriously – the whole ordeal only lasted a couple of months. He couldn't keep his job, the insurance wouldn't pay up, my mother couldn't work so she could be his full time carer. I had to drop out of school in the end, find multiple jobs so that the twins – my younger brother and sister- could continue their education. It destroyed my father to see the sacrifices we were making, but we never blamed him. I'm the spitting image of him now, and it still hurts. Even now I'll think of something, or remember an interesting this that happened, and I'll plan to tell him that evening before reality comes crushing down. Mother refused to grieve in front of us, in front of anyone. We argued and fought a lot as a result. I knew she was hurting, but she wouldn't let me in. But when she finally let the walls break down, I wasn't there. We were just lucky my uncle was around.”

I remain silent throughout his explanation, and I feel my heart ache for him. At least with my loss I had only myself to support, and I didn't have to worry about any siblings or other immediate family. My father wanted nothing to do with me, I'd lost contact with my mother, and as far as I'm aware I have no siblings or cousins. Not that they would care, anyway.

He's bared his soul to me, and I know it's only right that I should offer something in return. It's almost relieving, the notion that I can finally talk to someone that understands. I tug on the blanket once more, shifting a little so I can glance up to him with what I'm sure must be terribly blotchy eyes. “How.. How much did Varric tell you?”

“Only that you'd lost your fiancé in an incident three years ago. He didn't specify the hows.”

“..Drink driving incident. He was walking home from the shops, and an idiot..” Maker, I can barely choke the words out, but I know I need to purge them from me. I only hope it gets easier as I go on. “He swerved off the road, over the pavement. C-crushed him.. Right against the wall.”

“Shit..” His arm tightens against me and I swallow anxiously, clinging to him once more as the pain threatens to wash over me. “Anders, I'm so sorry..”

“I.. I'm a doctor. I worked the odd shift as an on call paramedic.”

I can feel him tense, as if he has a feeling he knows where this is going and he doesn't want it to be true. “You weren't..”

“I was called to.. To an incident. Nobody had identified him – nobody I worked with knew him. They wouldn't have sent me otherwise. As soon as I saw.. I knew. I-I.. F-fuck..” It's painful, but I start to spill it, to tear open my heart and let the pain out. Sitting in the van with my co-worker, the usual urgency there whenever we get called out, but it was just a normal day. And then.. That moment when I saw him. He's always had this curious hair colour, like a washed out brown, and I don't remember much.

I remember screaming. I remember screaming so much and dropping by his side, and he was barely conscious. I remember seeing his body black and blue, the unnatural angle where his hips had literally been crushed. There was blood down the wall from the impact, and in all honesty, I'm surprised even now that he'd stayed alive so long.

He died on the roadside in my arms, my tears streaking down his face as I cradled his head in my lap. He would never have made it to the hospital, my co-worker and I had known, and she gave me the privacy needed to share our last moments together. Karl had barely been lucid, but I just kept crying over and over, promising him it would be alright, he'd be alright, I was there for him. We would still get married, grow old together with our 2.4 children and seven cats and _oh Maker please just let this be a bad dream_.

Garrett listens to me silently as I fumble over my words, eventually poring my story out. I'd refused to go to counselling, and aside from a brief conversation with Varric, I'd held this all in. Letting it all out hurt more than I could say, but it also felt like a step in the right direction.

“Sorry.. We only just met and I've thrown all this on you.” I wipe roughly at my eyes and he squeezes me again, smiling softly. “But thank you. I.. I really needed that.”

“Don't worry about it, I'm just glad I can help you. Is there anything else I can do for you? Do you want a drink?”

I think for a moment and shake my head, before the most stupid idea comes into my mind. Stupid, but in that moment I can think of nothing I want more. I glance to the small cabinet beside my sofa and he follows my gaze, and with a soft chuckle he reaches over to grab the book, sliding his finger in beside the bookmark and opening the page.

His voice has been a source of comfort for me most every night this past while, and it means more to me than he can imagine to have it with me now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most translations included within the chapter, ones that aren't will be at the end. I don't speak German at all, but I'm currently studying for a year in Europe and I'm staying on the French-German border and I cannot pronounce the words for shit! Basically, if any of the translations are wrong, blame the online forums I browsed, and I'll sit here silently wishing I could speak it.

It's a few months after that fateful first meeting, and I'm jogging to the coffee shop where Garrett and I usually meet. It was his suggestion, and I'm enjoying them far more than I thought I would. We meet at least once a week, sometimes twice, and just sit and talk for a few hours over coffee and cake. I'm still only working smaller shifts than I used to, and his work timetable is always all over the place, so it's not always a consistent day.

Sometimes he brings cards for us to play with, or little gifts that his siblings have sent over. It was the twins' birthdays last month, and although he couldn't make it home to be with them he said he spent a good four hours on Skype to them and he's pleased to see them both doing so well. I'd like Bethany, he says, as she's training to be a children's nurse at the moment, and from what he's told me we'd get on wonderfully. Carver probably not so much, but then his own relationship with his brother is a bit rocky at the best of times. He says after their father died the dynamic changed, and Carver never could deal with always been in his brother's shadow. I guess that with the small-world fame Garrett's getting now, it really hasn't helped matters.

I find him already at our usual table and I slip into the seat opposite with an apologetic smile, but he just grins and slides the plate of cake over. Today it's lemon drizzle which is a particular weakness of mine, and he's already gotten me a full hot chocolate with the works too. He's very attentive to details, I've noticed, and although I mentioned very briefly in one of our first meetings that it's tradition to have hot chocolate with fruit cake in my mind, he remembered it. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, and I'm just so happy to have fallen in with someone like me.

Today there are no cards or mementos, but instead he has what looks like a manuscript. I make a noise of inquiry as I stuff the first bite of cake in my mouth, and he nudges it in my direction for me to have a look. He's highlighted sections and I realise it must be from the third book in Varric's series (the blighter's decided he wants the audiobook releasing at the same time as the written form, so I'm assuming it must be very nearly done now). I recognise the word's he's highlighted too. Of course I would – I was the one who dictated it.

“He does realise most of his readers won't be able to understand Ander, right?” I ask around the mouthful of cake, placing my hand in front of my mouth as I swallow. He snorts slightly and leans his elbows on the table, cradling his own cappuccino in his hands.

“The book's going to have translations in the appendix I believe, but he hasn't decided how he wants it done in audioform. I, however, am expected to read it straight up and I really, really don't think I'm saying it right. I'm going to cause Thedas-wide revolt with my horrifying pronunciation.” The look of horror on his face is too perfect and I feel a chuckle in my throat as I drop my eyes back to the paper, remembering an evening sat in the Hanged Man with Varric as he tried to get me to spill some sentences for him.

“In all honesty, if you just speak in that voice, I don't think anybody will notice if you say something wrong. It's not like there are any people in the Anderfels who'll listen to your version – at least, I don't think so?”

“Yeah, but you'll know I'm saying it wrong.” Sweet Maker he's pouting at me. That's freaking adorable.

I scoot my chair around so we're sat almost side by side and place the manuscript between us, pointing to the first highlighted part for him to have a go while I take a swig of my hot chocolate. He hesitates a moment before clearing his throat and speaks in the confident tone I'm so used to hearing in his works;

“Du hast wundershown orgen.”

I can't help it. I snort. I promised myself I wouldn't but now I'm thinking he's right, to save him the embarrassment I really should teach him how to say these words. He gives me an expression of mock hurt, but his eyes are dancing and I feel alright knowing I haven't really offended him.

“I told you it would be bad!”

“Not bad, just.. You won't be pulling any Ander women like that, let me tell you!”

“What about Ander men?” He's giving me an odd look and I just chuckle, brushing it aside for now. He knows where my sexual orientation lies ('anything animate' is what people would have told you in my college days, and only 'inanimate' on a certain, drunken dare that I really don't care to remember) but he's never been completely open about his own. I believe he dated a girl when he was younger and back in Ferelden, but it's not a subject I've pushed at all. When and if he wants to tell me is entirely up to him.

I tap the paper once I'm ready and say slowly and clearly, “Du hast wünderschöne Augen.”

His face lights up and I feel my face flush a little in embarrassment. It still feels a little odd to speak my mother tongue again after so long in Ferelden and the Free Marches, but at the same time it makes me feel proud when I see the look on his face. Not that there's anything to be proud of, really, except the fact that I haven't forgotten how to speak it.  
“What does it mean?”

Perhaps I'm just feeling in good spirits, but I decide to make this a game for him. “When you say it correctly, I'll tell you.”

“I hope you're not doing anything for the next two hours..”

“I have time.”

It didn't take two hours, but it did take a good number of attempts until he finally said it properly, and in that tone that caused me to fight to suppress a shiver down my spine. Void take me, it wasn't fair. How dare he be blessed with such beautiful vocal chords.

“So?” He looks at me so expectantly, like a Mabari after finding some useless item that its owner absolutely positively must love to death, and I chuckle softly, leaning my arms on the table and relaxing a little.

“It means 'you have beautiful eyes'.”

Almost immediately he faces me properly and says it again, and I can't help but squirm a little. The edges of his own eyes crinkle in response and I can see a smirk playing on his features, the cocky little git. If I'd known the sweet talking I gave Varric for his novel would be used on me I wouldn't have agreed, but I won't lie - it feels so nice to have someone talk like that again, even if they're only doing it in play.

“Ha, ha, next joke.”

“No, seriously, have you looked in the mirror recently? Do all Anders have eyes like yours or is it one-of-a-kind?”

I don't really remember, in all honesty. I believe I have my mother's eyes, and some part of my mind suggests that my father's were blue, but I really couldn't say. The gold and amber shade of my own are a bit of a rarity, especially in Ferelden where everyone's hair and eyes match the mud the country is so well known for.

“Are you sure you didn't drop out of school because you can't keep your attention fixed on something for five minutes?”

“Well that was one perk of my decision.” He grinned again, and bless him, the more I get to know him the more I do think of some oversized puppy. When I first met him he was cool, calm and collected, but time has only succeeded in showing me his true, youthful colours. I can't say I like one side more than the other, but it's nice to see him relax around me, and I know I'm doing the same around him. I haven't felt this comfortable with another person since, well..

Since Karl.

It doesn't hurt as much to think about him any more, and Garrett's been there whenever I've needed a shoulder – he even let me ring him at some ridiculous time in the morning when I went through a bad patch, and never complained once. People like him are too good for the world, but he seems to be world-wise enough not to let himself get trampled. I'm glad. I don't know if I could face seeing him ground under the heel of the metaphorical boot.

We go through another number of lines, until we reach a section that has me cracking up. They're some of the least elegant things I could have said, but Varric had wanted crass, so I gave him crass. In fact, the memory of how I'd learnt phrases like these had me cracking up and I was silently laughing next to him while he just looked at me dumbfounded. Eventually his questioning gaze was too much and I attempted to explain, knowing it wouldn't be as funny to him as to me.

“No, just.. I was sent to Ferelden when I was twelve, you see, so, technically, I didn't know any of the juicy language. But the school I was at, Kinloch Hold, is really strict on the books you can have. I wanted some books in Ander so bought some and genuinely, Maker be my witness, I had no idea they were erotica. The matrons didn't, either. I was caught reading them one class and the teacher called me out and demanded to know what I was reading. I managed to blag some bullshit about it being an Ander book on the topic of the class because I was struggling to follow his teaching, and you know, he bought it.”

He was regarding me funnily now, and I quickly told myself off for having gone on like that. Of course he didn't want to know my past.

“You were in Kinloch Hold?”

I didn't expect that question. 

“Yeah. Father insisted I stay there til I was eighteen. When I finally graduated I moved to Denerim and got into the med school there. Why?”

“I've.. Not heard good things about that place. I've heard it's really strict, and the kids are treated more like prisoners than students. I know Isabela brought it up when we first met, but it didn't really register with me then.”

“You're not half wrong about it being strict. Still, it's where.. Where Karl and I met. He was two years older than me, so I had to go through my finals without him around. He'd gone to university here in Kirkwall but the only option for me to pursue my dreams was Denerim. And then, after that, well, things got a little.. Out of hand for me. It's how I ended up conscripted with the Wardens in the Amaranthine division.”

He was looking at me oddly again, and I couldn't help but squirm under his gaze. What was I doing wrong this time?

“You're fucking something, you know that? You went through Kinloch, and the Wardens, and you're still so, well.. You. Not some raving lunatic, not some psychopathic criminal. You're something special.”

I don't know how to feel with this comment and praise out of the blue and feel my cheeks redden in embarrassment (curse you Anders' genetics, I go red at nothing at the best of times), but he just smiles and reaches over the table, taking my hand and squeezing it a moment. I cough on reflex and awkwardly point back to the words that had started this distraction, and he reluctantly sighs and turns back to it.

“So, how do I say this phrase?”

“Fühlt sich gut an, nicht wahr? Außer mir wird Dich keiner hören. Schrei soviel Du willst. Ich mag es, wenn du schreist.”

“...Yeah that's not going to happen.”

“Next meeting then. You've gotten the rest down pretty well, anyway.”

We spend the rest of our catch-up, well, catching up. Eventually we decide to leave, Garrett saying his dog will probably start breaking the door down if he doesn't go and see to him. We pay and leave a tip, as we usually do, and start heading outside together. He doesn't part ways immediately and we're left sort of, well, hovering around. I glance to him curiously, wondering what's on his mind as he swings his arms to and fro absently.

“Hey, Anders, look.. I.. I understand this might not be the right time – it might not ever be the right time.”

Fuck, no, please don't go where I think it's going.

“But I just.. I like you. Alright? There. I like you more than I expected to, and-”

He holds a hand up as I open my mouth to protest, and I reluctantly allow him to carry on.

“Even if you never feel the same, if you never have any inclination to respond similarly, it's ok. I understand, and I don't mind. I just.. I want you to know. So if you ever do start to feel similarly, you don't have that indecision of guessing blindly where I stand.”

He finishes there and holds his hand out for us to shake as we part company, as we usually do. I'm hesitant, and my mind's running ten to the dozen.

Do I like him? Yes.

Do I want to pursue something more? Most definitely.

And how long have I been telling myself I'm looking for something steady? That I'm tired of being alone? From what I've experienced of him, he's not the sort who is just in for a casual fling with the intention of breaking it off shortly after. He throws himself into everything he does, and he doesn't back out. Sure, he might be distracted along the way, but he never strays, not really.

I can see him looking worried as I don't take his hand, and it's impulse that drives me forward then. My hand reaches out but misses his own, and I find it locked in his hair as I pull him down into a kiss. It's not desperate (well done me), and it's not too light. It's enough, solid, and after a moment's pause I feel his hands settle on my waist as he holds it in turn. There's a comfort and warmth here I hadn't known I'd missed, and we pull back after a moment. There's an easy smile on his face and I chuckle softly, dropping my gaze and shaking my head.

“Garrett, please, just know this. I didn't think I would, but I've grown fond of you too. Don't expect miracles, and let me take my time and move at my pace, but.. I want us to try this. You've seen me at my worst – let me show you there's something better hidden in here somewhere.”  
“You mean there's better waiting for me? Lucky me.”

I always worried I'd feel like moving on would be unfaithful to Karl, but I know now that it's not the case. He'll always be there, and some part of me will always wonder what we could have had. But I know he wouldn't want me to be lonely and hurting. There are good people in the world, albeit few and far between, and although I may have lost one of the best, fortune brought another to me.

For the first time in a very long time I just know that everything's going to work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fühlt sich gut an, nicht wahr? Außer mir wird Dich keiner hören. Schrei soviel Du willst. Ich mag es, wenn du schreist. - Feels good, doesn't it? Nobody will hear you but me. Scream all you like. I like it when you scream.


	4. Epilogue

What ever possessed me to think that any idea of Varric's could be a good one?

Garrett, too – oh, he's going to get it in the neck later. I can't believe he convinced me to do this.

Speak of the devil, look at him, wolf whistling as he steps out of the recording booth. I got to accompany him for the final instalment (and don't think I didn't see you looking at me while you moaned into that microphone you little bugger). I have to admit, the fact that I'm how he gets into the 'zone' for his erotica readings is a pretty damn fine thought, but right now I feel ridiculous and I can't decide whether his open approval is helping matters or not.

He steps over to me with a grin and places an open kiss on my neck as I swat at him, gesturing vaguely to the clothing and finery draped all over my body. “Careful, you might get your body hair caught in all this jewellery. I mean, seriously? I look like a disco ball or something!”

“In that case I'm disco ball-sexual..”

I groan but let him hug me this time as I grumble incoherently, leaning back against him as warm arms encircle my waist.

It's been two years, and so much has changed. Garrett and I have moved in together, and although his dog and I had a few disagreements at first, everything's settled down now. He's gotten a steady job as a voice actor on radio drama when he doesn't have audiobook work, and it's nice being sat in the office at work and listening to him acting out some grand adventure. When he's not voice acting, he's volunteering at an adult bereavement centre. He even managed to persuade me to attend a few times, tell people of my experiences. I spoke both as a lover and a doctor, knowing that some of the people that followed his sessions were, like me, people in the health and social sector. I've never really helped to heal people in the emotional side before, and it felt really nice to know I can help make a difference.

My own anxiety has started to fade, and although it's not a quick process, Garrett's bringing out a side of me I thought had been lost. The first time I made a dick joke in semi-polite company I thought he was going to choke to death on his soup. Well, he was going to learn one way or another what a filthy mind I used to have. I would like to think that I have a better hold on my dirty sense of humour now, but, well, only time will tell.

He joins us in the Hanged Man frequently too, and I can see the others are relieved to see me acting more like my old self again. It's less like everyone's treading on tenterhooks, and Isabela shamelessly flirts with the both of us. I was horrified when I found out she'd been writing friend fiction of the two of us (even more so when she showed us how well received it was online – Andraste's tits I do _not_ want to read myself doing those types of things – or have other people read them about me!) as the real life Scion and Aedan, and Garrett's started coaching Fenris on speaking a bit too. I know the Vint doesn't have much idea of what he wants to do with his life, but he's got a good accent and a deep voice, and I reckon Garrett's right – he could make a career out of speaking too.

Still not my scene, but then if it were, I wouldn't be here, with Varric off chatting to the media producer and Garrett surreptitiously massaging my shoulders through the thin fabric.

By some sick design, the two of them convinced me to model for the front cover of the fourth book. Since I am the almighty Scion, slayer of dragons and seducer galore, they couldn't think of anyone better (bullshit), and when I argued that _have you seen me I am going to look like such a coward_ _like a tortilla would be more attractive_ they just insisted and Garrett pulled those puppy dog eyes and Maker I hate him sometimes.

Only for a few seconds at a time, but still.

“You look so fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs now against my neck, and I can't help but smile weakly. I'm decked out in rich Antivan silks and so much jewellery I look like an ancient Rivaini seer. I have bracelets over bangles with so many rings I can barely move my fingers, hoops in my ears and cuffs lining the shell. A make-up artist was working on me throughout most of Garrett's final reading to darken my eyelids and line the rim so the gold in my eyes positively sparkles. They've accentuated my cheekbones too, and my nose, and topped it all off with a sprinkling of gold dust and when I looked in a mirror I barely recognised myself.

Varric and the producer (surprise surprise of course his brother is in the business) stepped over, and my friend practically squealed with excitement. Or at least he would have if he ever did anything so unmanly. “Oh, Blondie, you look perfect!”

I blush a little and Garrett grins, rubbing against my arms as he kisses me once more, and all too soon it's time for me to do my job. I'm terrified out of my skin, but it's just friends here, and I am a complete amateur so they'll hardly scold me if I do something wrong.

Once in the photography room, they position me in front of a green screen and get me to lounge on a mock throne. I shuffle to get comfortable as they move bits and pieces around to make the setting perfect – fake piles of treasure, an elaborate stand covered in more silks, that sort of thing. Garrett comes over and places a crown at a jaunty angle on my head before ruffling the silks I'm wearing, tousling my hair and giving me what he deems an attractively dishevelled look. I smile fondly at him as he places a hand to my cheek before stepping back, and then it's the fussing over the lights.

To be perfectly honest I still have no idea what I'm doing, but it's supposed to be sexy. I try to channel that spirited youth I used to be, that arrogance and confidence. I think at some point I drape a leg over the arm of the throne and relax back, toying with the ends of my hair. Its fully loose at the moment with a couple of braids, and with some guidance from Garrett (“babe, show them your profile, that nose is so gorgeous it should be criminal”) I'm told we've gotten some pretty decent pictures. Varric especially likes the ones where I'm looking right at the camera, and there's one too where I'm 'seductively' tugging on a chain with my teeth.

I still don't know why the Scion of the Anderfels is covered in Antivan and Rivaini fashion, but I'm sure it'll be explained in the book. I might try asking Garrett for spoilers but last time he told me he'd rather show me and if I may say so myself that is an evening I would very willingly repeat. Just, maybe not now in the middle of the studio.

As I step back out of the room Garrett swoops over and lifts me up into his arms, spinning me around with a laugh before crushing his lips to mine. I can hear someone catcalling but I don't care as I loop fingers in his hair and hold him close, just savouring the moment. It's only when a flash goes off that I pull back, but he's already ahead of me and giving whoever took the photo the universal middle finger.

There's a celebratory party in the common room down the hall, just for close friends and the few staff members working on this project, but he refuses to let me change before leading me down. Isabela, Merrill and Fenris are already sat around with drinks and paper plates, and Isabela purrs as she looks me up and down, clearly approving of the suggestively draped fabric and decadence. You know, a guy could get used to this sort of attention.

There are congratulations passed around the room and balloons are tossed about, and when we all have our drinks a small toast is made. I don't think I've ever seen Varric get so emotional, but I suppose that for him, this is the end of a long road. This has been his most successful series, and now that it's over, there's going to be a lot of expectation for whatever he writes next. He thanks us all for our support and assistance, and I feel Garrett pull me a little closer to his side on the sofa we've claimed. I'm in the middle with Varric stood just to my other side, and rest my head against Garrett's chest. The earrings make it a little uncomfortable, but I'm too content to fuss much.

“A lot of things have changed over these long years,” Varric was saying, looking to us almost pointedly, though there was a warmth in his expression. “And I've never been so grateful to have such an odd collection of friends. You each mean so much to me, and I thank you for all the excitement you've brought into my lives. May we have many more adventures to come.”

“And a giant orgy to boot?”

A general laugh set up from Isabela's comment, so typically her, although we all knew that she wasn't joking. At that Varric downed his drink, and Garrett knocked his glass to mine before we both sipped at ours again. Yes, life really has turned out for the better. Sure, I never envisaged myself being the front cover boy of an erotic novel, but then I never saw my future surrounded by good friends and sexy voices either. I feel fingers twine with my own and I close my hand around them, closing my eyes with a content sigh. His lips are on my neck again, and by now nobody pays any attention any more. He's proven himself to be an affectionate lover, and among friendly company he can just never keep himself to himself. His teeth nibble against my skin and ghost up, following the line of my pulse, before gently tugging on one of the hoops in my ear.

“Love, can't you wait until we get home?”

“You won't be in those clothes when we get home though. I want to savour this moment.”

“Please tell me you're not going to get a print out of the front cover..”

“No..?”

Yes. I'd say everything has worked out just fine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far, thank you for sticking through :D it took a completely different turn to what I had originally intended but the muse started flowing and I sure as hell wasn't going to stop it. It's only a short little thing, but I find myself quite liking this AU, and I'd love to play with them some more, perhaps in some oneshots. If anybody has anything they'd like to see, please feel free to let me know either here or on [my tumblr](http://kinloch-ho.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Again, thank you for reading, and I hope it managed to do its job :D
> 
> ~~And now to go kick myself back into gear to finish TYLWYCF that REALLY needs a better abbreviation...~~


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